


Margate

by Emphysematous



Series: Extra Time [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: ...Kinda, Alfie never shuts up, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Divergence, First Time, M/M, Pillow Talk, Propositions, Prostate Massage, Spoilers up to S5, Tommy Shelby Needs a Hug, gangsters being ridiculously romantic, undressing incredibly slowly, where has the fucking lube gone?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27762658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emphysematous/pseuds/Emphysematous
Summary: Tommy sat there, in Alfie's parlour, having listened to him waffle on about watching ships and being dead, and having got him onboard with the Moseley plan for an extortionate but not impossible sum of money, and expected to go on with his day as planned.Alfie, now dead and therefore freed of all societal expectations, has other ideas. He has a proposition. One which has been waiting, unspoken, for seven years.Or: "What I'mtryingto ask you, Tommy..." Alfie said, "...is when exactly are you and I going to fuck?"
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Series: Extra Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030875
Comments: 32
Kudos: 109





	1. Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a tiny scribble on Tumblr and grew into... this. 
> 
> This fic is comprised of 1.05% the word 'fuck' and its derivatives.

* * *

Even though he'd known Alfie wasn’t dead - he'd been sent a fucking  _ letter _ , for Christ's sake - his traitor heart still jumped in his chest when he'd been ushered up the stairs and into the chintzy parlour and… he'd _been_ there. Really  _ there _ . Alive and- well, perhaps not kicking in the literal sense, but metaphorically well and truly sticking the boot into Tommy's emotions. Again. 

And even now - even after he'd died and been buried and had his name printed in the bloody obituaries section and Tommy had drunk himself unconscious nine nights in a row - even after all of that, he had the bloody audacity to be-- okay, not beautiful, Alfie had never been 'beautiful', even as a young man - but… deeply and incomprehensibly  _ attractive _ . Magnetic. Gravitational. And as usual, he'd found himself drawn into Alfie's inextricable orbit. So after some talk of ships and God and the meaning of life, he'd followed him through from the seafront parlour to the rather dimmer dining room at the back of the house, too busy focusing on maintaining his self restraint to keep track of what Alfie was going on about. 

“Yeh, well, it seems to me mate, yeah?” Alfie leaned heavily on his cane on his way to the drinks cabinet. “That you and I… Well, our lives are what you might call ‘entwined’. That is to say, that when a man meets another man whose entire focus is the destruction of the former man’s entire livelihood and then somehow manages to use his inhuman charm and baby blues to then get said man to work alongside him; plus obtaining him a certain bejeweled ovum and the chance to take a few steps towards avenging his mum; opening up a new international market for that man's business, dragging him into some frankly sordid little gypsy schemes and uh…" he held up a carafe and tilted his head at Tommy, who simply nodded.  _ Entwined. _ He blinked away those thoughts. 

Alfie plonked two crystal glasses onto the varnished mahogany without the slightest thought towards a coaster, pouring a generous measure for Tommy and a splash for himself. "...oh yeah, then goes and fires an actual fucking live bullet into his actual fucking live head, and goes and leaves him for dead on a beach in fucking  _ Margate _ \- of all places - then I put it to you, my friend..." he handed Tommy his glass and held his own under his nose, inhaling deeply. "...that it is reasonable for one to call those two men somewhat 'intimately acquainted'. Wouldn't you say?"

_ 'Intimately'. Why that word? Of all the fucking words to choose…  _ Tommy took a short drag of his cigarette and a long gulp of the whisky. "I suppose one might." He rubbed at his jaw and leaned on the dresser, wondering what the fuck it was that Alfie was meandering towards. 

"Well then!" Alfie declared. He produced his pipe and tobacco tin and began the laborious process of loading a fresh smoke into the bowl. "So how about it, eh?"

Tommy gazed impassively back at Alfie, not trusting himself to respond. His pulse drummed in his ears. Like a rusty carnival ride, his mind was turning again. Slowly at first, creaking from stagnancy into lurching motion, shifting gears until it would be whirling, all bright lights and jaunty music, racing full tilt just to keep up with Alfie's bouncing, tumbling landslide of thoughts. He hadn't felt this in months. Not since before-- before the beach. He had a sudden wave of dizzying deja vu; this moment overlaying perfectly with the very first time he'd met Alfie. How he'd gone in numb with boredom and come out shaking with exhilaration, feeling like he'd just gone a dozen rounds in the ring. How he'd slept like the dead that night. Not physically tired in the slightest, but mentally exhausted.  _ Finally. Finally a challenge _ . 

Alfie sighed and limped over to stand just a fraction closer than Tommy liked - something he was perfectly aware of, of course. The bastard. Tommy shifted his weight from one foot to the other and took another drag of his cigarette to burn out the smell of him. He was too much. Every sense filled with  _ Alfie _ . This was dangerous.

"What I'm trying to tell you, Tommy my lad, is that you and I have both been to hell and now we're in Margate. We've killed and been killed and now we sing at weddings and usher in new life to the world." Alfie took one more step and Tommy could feel the heat of his body. The solidity of him. The  _ life _ of him. He gripped the edge of the dresser.

Alfie reached over Tommy's shoulder and took a box of matches from the shelf behind his head. Their faces were just inches apart. Somewhere, a match was struck and a flame sputtered into life but all Tommy could see was the way Alfie's lips pursed around the stem of his pipe and the way his scarred, calloused hands cradled the bowl as he lit the tobacco. He swallowed thickly. Alfie puffed a little and continued his oration. "We've held each other's lives in the palm of our hands and now… Now…" He looked down at Tommy and gestured broadly with his pipe. "What is left for us to hold? What is  _ left _ , Tommy, eh? For us to  _ feel _ ?"

An expectant pause. Tommy pulled himself together enough to drawl, "confused?" He drew his hand up to tap ash into an ornamental Toby jug next to his elbow. Absolutely did not feel his stomach flutter when Alfie's lips twitched into an exasperated grin. 

"What I'm  _ trying _ to ask you, Tommy..." Alfie said, suddenly much more gentle - which was even  _ worse _ , because now his breath caught in his throat and he was suddenly snared in the tender trap of Alfie's eyes. There was nothing else in the world but the two of them. Inches apart. Alfie slowly lowered his gaze, and for a moment it was a relief, until he reached up and made a minute adjustment to Tommy's tie, smoothing the lay of it down the centre of his chest. "...is when exactly are you and I going to fuck?"

* * *

He could have walked out. He could have shoved him back. He could have grabbed a kitchen knife or thrown one of the decorative plates. He could have gone for his revolver and shot the bastard. He could have  _ laughed _ . A thousand different ways to respond. 

Instead, he'd frozen. Every part of him stopped. Points of light twinkled at the edges of his vision and he could hear nothing but a rushing roar, blotting out all else. Shock thrust a croaked "whuh?" from his mouth, but he couldn't form any words, couldn't form any thoughts, couldn't breathe. He balanced en pointe over a bottomless pit on the tip of a needle while time flashed an eternity around him.

Alfie was closer somehow. Thigh pressed to thigh. One of Alfie's hands was holding his bicep. He knew it was there, could see the thumb rub a gentle circle, but he felt nothing. He watched his own hand shift naturally to rest at Alfie's waist but had no conception of how that had happened. Alfie was talking to him, saying things he should be listening to but while his lips moved and his tongue flicked in and out of sight, Tommy couldn't make out a single word. 

It was the sharp pain in his fingers that restarted the world. His cigarette; burned down to the card filter. He hissed and flung it away from him, shaking the sting out of his hand. And with a rush, he could move again. His hand at Alfie’s waist clenched into a fistful of white shirt as what he was saying became comprehensible again. 

"...cos the thing is, yeah, I'm not saying I'm an  _ expert _ in these things, but I have been about a bit, and I have never met anyone who gives off so many 'let's fuck' signals but who never makes any fuckin' move to actually do it, as you. And, right, being killed by some cunt on a beach kinda makes you think a bit: do I really want to spend my afterlife waiting for Tommy fucking Shelby to kiss me, or do I just kiss him and see what fucking happens, eh? Because, seriously mate, and this is coming from experience, a bloke could die waiting for you t--"

Tommy kissed him. 

Yes, he'd wanted to for years, since the day they'd met, if he was honest with himself, and yes, it seemed like the right moment for that kind of thing. But mostly to get him to shut the fuck up. 

Alfie's mouth was cooler than his own, and he tasted of tobacco smoke and cloves and a flash of iron from where he must have bitten the tip of his tongue recently. And of all the things Tommy had done in his life: the French whores, holding his newborn children, watching his first love waste away and die, his wedding night--  _ nights _ , living in a hole in the ground with a dozen other men for six weeks while waiting for the fucking cavalry… Of all the things he'd done and people he'd known, realising that Alfie had recently bitten his tongue seemed the most intimate; the closest he'd ever felt to another human. 

The stiffness in his limbs ebbed away and he stopped fighting what he wanted, letting Alfie gather him up into his arms. Alfie sighed a snatched breath into his mouth and Tommy could  _ feel _ him. Could feel the hardness of him pressed against his hip. And while Alfie was quite likely to have a gun in his pocket somewhere, there was no mistaking that he was, in fact, very pleased to see him. 

Alfie shifted again, tilting his hips and then deliberately and blatantly rutting up against Tommy's body. He hummed an appreciative moan and bit gently at Tommy’s lower lip. One of his arms wrapped around Tommy's waist, his other hand holding him by the back of the neck, making him lift his chin so that Alfie could suck at the skin of his throat. He murmured something but Tommy couldn’t parse the words. Perhaps it was Yiddish. Or Russian. Or it might have been English, only he’d just entirely forgotten how language worked. Because what were words when you were being kissed like this by Alfie Solomons? 

Tommy felt himself melting. His body relaxed against Alfie's like a child falling asleep in its mother's arms. Polly always said that there was tightly coiled clockwork in his heart that kept him driving forwards, always moving, always keeping busy, always always filling his mind with business so that there wouldn't be room for feeling. But now, with Alfie kissing him, hard and hot and hasty, he felt the mechanism falter and shudder to a stop. 

Time stopped. He stopped. Stopped trying to run. Stopped trying to think. Nothing mattered but Alfie. Alfie: here, now. Alfie hot and panting into his mouth. Alfie kissing him. Alfie  _ wanting _ him. Wanting to fuck him.  _ We're going to fuck. Right here, right now. We're actually going to fuck. Finally.  _ _ Fuck _ _. Fuck fuck fuck _ ...

This was such a bad idea. 

Tommy sucked a few more urgent kisses from Alfie's mouth before wrenching himself away, knocking Alfie's arm from around him. "Alfie, stop. I… We--" He heaved a couple of breaths, almost panting, his hands held up like a wall between them. Alfie shuffled back half a step, smoothing his moustache with his fingers. His eyes flickered up and down Tommy's body and he shamelessly adjusted himself in his trousers. Tommy wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Just… just let me think. For a moment."  _ He couldn't do this. He wouldn't. He shouldn't.  _ "This is…"

"Yeah. Yeah, mate, I know," Alfie was nodding, chewing at his lip. "You're right, you're right." He stepped back further, leaving chill air against Tommy's skin in his place. Folded his arms and looked Tommy up and down again. Tommy's heart thundered in his ears.  _ What the fuck have you done? _ Every inch of him wanted to be kissing Alfie again.  _ Just reach out and pull him back! _

"Thing is, I'm a great believer in time and place, right?" Alfie had retreated all the way to the kitchen table, resting his backside on the edge and cupping elbow in hand while he picked a tangle out of his beard. Tommy couldn't make himself move and Alfie was still all the way over there, still talking. "Whether it's the stars aligning, or the guidance of guardian angels or the incomprehensibility of God's perfect master plan, sometimes it's right and sometimes it just… aint. Y'know?" 

Tommy's mouth was a desert. He was stone. Motionless. Silent. Hard. His heart screamed that  _ no, he didn't know _ . His mind flickered through all the logical reasons that fucking Alfie would be a  _ really bad idea.  _ _ Monumentally _ _ bad. Catastrophic for both of them. _ His prick ached. Alfie continued. "And, just to add another layer of complexity to this wonderful world of ours, sometimes, even when one party has their celestial ducks in a row - so to speak - the other… Well…" he shrugged. "Sometimes their ducks are more scattered to the winds. And it don't matter what the first party thinks about it, if the second party ain't quite in the right place and time to, uh… 'partake'... as it were. Yeah?"

Tommy attempted to wet his lips with a tongue dry as paper. Alfie's eyes were boring into him. "So," he said heavily, hands gripping the table edge either side of his arse. "So. The way I see it, yeah? Is that in a situation like what I just outlined a moment ago, yeah? In a situation like that. All a bloke can do is state his intent, in clear and simple terms, and leave it for the universe or the angels or the Almighty himself to decide if this is, in fact, the right time and indeed place after all. Or whether said bloke has just made an utter  _ tit _ of himself. D'y'see?"

He coughed and rubbed his jaw, still watching Tommy at the corner of his eye. Tommy made no move. No words. He barely even blinked. He felt as if every muscle was locked into place. Alfie licked his lips and waited. 

_ No. No, you're right. I want you. I've wanted you from the day we met. I want you so much I can't think when you're with me but I can't live when you're not. I want you with every breath in my lungs and every drop of blood pumping through my cock. I want to have you and be had by you until I don't know where I end and you begin. I want us to fuck. And fuck and fuck and keep fucking because of all the people in this world, you're the only one who has ever really  _ _ seen _ _ me and I  _ _ need _ _ you. Need you with every fibre of my soul. _

Tommy didn't move. 

"Right." Alfie stood up, adjusting the lay of his shirt. "Right then." He put his hands on his hips and surveyed Tommy critically like he was considering buying him thirdhand at a particularly cheap market stall. Tommy gazed passively back at him, expression blank. "Right." Alfie said again. "Fair enough."

He pulled himself up straighter, and Tommy saw years of familiarity, of camaraderie, of  _ intimacy _ , fall away from him.  _ You fucked it up. He's leaving, he's  _ _ leaving _ _. You stupid fucking  _ _ cunt _ _ , just tell him not to go!  _ His next words struck Tommy like bullets. 

"Well then, if you'll excuse me, Mr Shelby, I'm afraid I find myself somewhat fatigued and forced to beg upon your understanding and forgiveness." He sketched a kind half nod, half bow and headed stiffly for the door. 

The smell of him left behind in the air after he passed by - tobacco smoke and cloves - brought life back to Tommy's limbs, but he was already disappearing through the door beyond. Tommy jerked to his feet and strode after him. "Alfie! Alfie, wait!"

They met on the landing. Alfie leaning against the wall, arms folded, chin up. Tommy forced himself to face the disappointment and anger that he deserved, but when he managed to lift his eyes to Alfie's face, all he saw was resignation and pity. The pity was far worse than any rage. 

"Alfie." Tommy's voice was hoarse. He coughed. "Alfie, it was just so fast and--"

"It's no matter, Tom," Alfie waved away his words with a dismissing hand. "Consider it a sick man's fleeting madness, eh? I have been recently shot in the actual head, as you might recall. Jolted my brains a bit, no doubt."

"Alfie," Tommy tried again, reaching out for him, But Alfie edged away from him, shuffling just out of reach.

"I am tired though, Tommy, yeah?" He looked it. Smaller. Diminished. "It was good to see you, mate." 

It was the politest 'fuck off' Tommy had ever heard from him. He swallowed thickly, feeling sick. "Yeah, of course. Good to see you too. Good to find where you've been hiding yourself." He extended a hand to shake goodbye but Alfie just stared at it with distaste. It had been years since they'd shaken hands formally like strangers. In fact - had they ever shaken hands? Outside of sealing a business deal? Tommy curled his fingers and shoved his hand awkwardly into his pocket.

"I'm going to  _ bed _ , Tommy." There was a heavy emphasis there, but for the life of him, Tommy couldn't decide if it was an invitation or a brush-off. "I'll trust you to see yourself out." Alfie gestured down the stairs to the front door and opened the door behind him. "And if your stars ever align with mine… Well. You know where to find me."

And then the door closed behind him and he was gone. 

Tommy stared numbly at the wall for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching.  _ Stupid stupid stupid fucking idiot. You had it. He offered himself up on a plate to you and you fucking pulled away from him. Disgusting, cowardly  _ _ cunt _ _ that you are. _ He squeezed his eyes shut. Forced a breath. 

It was done. It was done. He'd made a fool of himself. Embarrassed them both. And now it was over. Alfie'd made it clear he wasn't going to hold the whole horrendous business against him, but it was excruciating, all the same. 

_ Come on, Thomas,  _ he growled at himself.  _ You can't dither alone in Alfie's house forever. What's done is done.  _ He paced indecisively for a minute or so. He could go left, down the stairs, through the front door and just walk away. Or he could go right. Through the door to Alfie's rooms. His mind plunged into a vivid recall of Alfie hard against him, his hot kisses, the barely-controlled power of him holding him close, the building excitement you felt just before a fuck. The memory took his breath away and he reached for the architrave to steady himself.  _ You had him. He was right there. He wanted you and all you had to do was say yes. Just for once in your miserable fucking life, say  _ _ yes _ _.  _

It took a while for him to regain his composure. He couldn't. There was too much at stake here. This wouldn't be a hasty, clumsy encounter between young men barely out of adolescence, with nothing to lose but their pride. They both had reputations that would not survive an upheaval of this magnitude. They both held empires in their hands that would crumble to dust at the smallest  _ hint _ of… 

_ Lives would be lost _ . 

Impassive mask back in place, he straightened his cuffs and tucked an unlit cigarette between his lips. Following his heart had only ever ended in death and despair. He'd chosen this path years ago. He'd known the price. Now he had to keep to the planned route or everything would be lost.  _ Everything would be lost _ . 

He put the cigarette back into its case. Took a deep breath. And opened the door. 

_ In the bleak midwinter.  _

* * *


	2. Premature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna put this up in a couple of days, but fuck it, have some porn.

* * *

Alfie's rooms opened into a small anteroom set out as a study, stuffed full of mismatched furniture with books and papers on every surface. It smelled of oranges and hickory smoke from the small fireplace. There was no Alfie, but a door opposite was open and Tommy could see the foot of a bed bathed in bright sunlight. He laid his coat and cap over Alfie's desk chair and hesitated. _It's still not too late._

"You gonna lurk about out there by yourself for much longer, treacle?" 

_Well. Here we fucking go, then._

Alfie was sitting on his bed, waiting. Undressed to his trousers, socks and shirt, he was enthroned against the headboard, legs apart and his arms draped on his raised knees. On a second glance, Tommy realised with a jolting rush that his trousers' flies were undone. 

"You took your bleedin' time, mate, din'tcha?" Alfie cocked his head at him. "Actually had me worried there, for a minute." He glanced down at himself. "Almost got started without you, in fact." His eyes flicked back up to study Tommy's face, gazing steadily at him for his reaction.

Tommy resisted the urge to try to stare him down - they'd both end up paralysed in an endless battle of wills until they died of starvation. Instead, he glanced around the room, taking in the surprisingly cheerful wallpaper and rag rug that gave the room a fresh, airy feel. It was a far cry from the dark, subterranean feel of the bakery. But somehow it still felt like Alfie. 

Alfie was still and silent, watching him. Tommy felt rather like a mouse in a room with a cat. He wanted a cigarette. As if the thought triggered it, he coughed and then cleared his throat, rubbing at his nose with the back of his thumb. 

"So, uh…" he stared out the window and coughed again. "What you said out there. About wanting to fuck me." He was relieved that his voice held steady on the words. Alfie stayed stubbornly silent, just watching. _The bastard._ He made himself continue. "Is that still on the table?" He pressed his lips together and turned his head to face Alfie. "Or did I just make an utter tit of myself?" 

Alfie scratched at the back of his neck and instead of replying, stood up from the bed with a bit of a grunt. Tommy eyed him warily as he came closer, but he simply went to the window to start methodically closing the curtains. He delicately picked up a dead fly from the windowsill between thumb and forefinger and dropped it into the wastepaper basket with a grimace. When they were satisfactorily shielded from the prying eyes of any neighbours, Aflie paced heavily back to the head of his bed. And very deliberately dropped his trousers to the floor. 

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a hint of a smile at one side of his mouth. The message was clear: your move. 

Tommy stood still for a long moment. His fingers twitched at his hip - he really fucking wanted a cigarette. His eyes tracked down Alfie's body, from disheveled hair to white underwear to faded black socks and back up to his face. Without breaking eye contact he slowly took his jacket off and laid it on top of a chest of drawers. 

Alfie raised an eyebrow. “You got your ducks sorted, then?”

Tommy’s lip twitched and he looked down briefly to hide his smile, raising his head when his expressionless mask was back in place. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Hmmmn,” Alfie rumbled, stroking his beard with the fingers of one hand. He flicked the other with an imperious gesture. _Continue_.

After a pause that felt like hours, Tommy licked his lips and lifted a foot onto the blanket box at the foot of the bed to begin methodically unlacing and taking off his shoes and socks. He could feel Alfie’s gaze burning into him while he carefully removed his cufflinks and tucked them into his waistcoat pocket. Then the waistcoat itself, folding it carefully on top of his jacket. He wasn’t going to give Alfie the satisfaction of looking up for his approval. 

When he started to unknot his tie, Alfie sat down on the edge of his bed and leaned against the headboard. He brought one foot up onto the mattress and let his wrist rest on his knee. A picture of nonchalance. 

He beckoned with a finger. "Come here, Peaky boy."

Tommy continued to remove his tie, roll it up neatly and set it down carefully on his pile of clothes. For a second, he imagined himself crawling to Alfie across the bed like a whore. A blush bloomed across his chest, creeping up his collarbones at the thought. He cleared his throat and took the four steps to stand at the side of the bed, just a few inches from Alfie’s foot.

Alfie rested his arm on the top of the headboard and eyed him up and down. And there was something about being _looked at_ like that. The anticipation. The obvious enjoyment. The little spread of Alfie’s knees as he shifted his weight, drew Tommy’s eyes to his crotch. He swallowed thickly and made himself look at Alfie’s face. 

He began to unbutton his shirt. And the way Alfie's lip curled into the filthiest grin at _that_ could have fuelled Tommy's fantasies for a week straight. 

He’d seen strippers perform hundreds of times; seen countless women - and men - undress in countless situations. But to experience this from the other side… To be the object of such intense scrutiny, such unashamed hunger. His audience now was notably several times more enthralled than he had ever been with those girls taking off their clothes for him. 

Steadily - not letting himself rush - he undressed. His shirt and undershirt were also laid neatly on the chest of drawers. He came back to his spot next to Alfie’s foot. A very faint draught of cool air brought goosebumps up on his chest. He waited, almost like standing at attention, for more instructions. But Alfie just watched him, mouth curved in a very satisfied smirk. _Bastard._ Tommy took a deep breath. And started work on the buttons of his flies. 

Alfie's eyes actually slid closed for a second or two. 

"Fuckin'ell, Tom, if you knew of the times I'd imagined you doing that…" The confession was a murmur, almost unconscious; but it felt more gratifying than any amount of outright compliments that had been thrown at his looks and body in the past. Tommy dropped his trousers and stepped out of them. He collected them from the floor and shook the creases out before taking them to go on top of his other things. His skin seemed pale as milk in the wan afternoon light filtering around the curtains, almost a match for his white underwear. Tommy came back to his spot and spread his arms slightly. A display. An offering. 

Alfie lunged like a tiger catching prey.

He pulled Tommy to him by the waistband of his underwear, but only managed to yank him off balance. Tommy stumbled and grabbed hold of him just to keep himself upright. And Alfie kissed him. It was far gentler than Tommy had expected. Just a brush of lip and a tickle of moustache before a slightly firmer press of lips to lips. A toe dipped in the waters. Alfie drew back for a moment, glancing at Tommy's face. There was a question there - but Tommy didn't want him to ask it. Didn't want to think about it. For once, he just wanted to stop thinking and just _do_. 

He slid his hand around the back of Alfie's neck and brought him back to kiss again, climbing onto his knees on the bed as he did so. Alfie wrapped an arm around his waist. Their kiss deepened and somehow it was exactly like and yet nothing like any kiss Tommy'd had before. 

Alfie kissed him with the tenderness and experimentation of a youth's first explorations into romance, but with the confidence of someone who knew their lover inside out. The sensations of chapped lips, calloused fingers stroking up his back and beard scratching his chin were all startlingly new, but at the same time Tommy was filled with a slow warmth of _rightness_. Belonging. This was where he was meant to be. This was what he'd been craving all his life. The whirling mechanisms in his mind that constantly ticked away at this problem or that worry, they all drifted away as if puffed out in a cloud of opium smoke. 

Alfie slid a hand down to the back of Tommy's thigh and hauled him closer, until Tommy was practically straddling his lap. The shift unbalanced them and they teetered for a few seconds before succumbing to gravity and toppling sideways onto the bed together. 

Alfie squirmed on top and pinned Tommy's wrists to the mattress over his head. His kisses turned into shallow bites, teeth scraping over Tommy's jawline, neck, collarbone. Tommy wrenched his hands free just as Alfie's mouth reached one of his nipples. He had to haul Alfie off it by a handful of his hair, jerking his head back. Alfie grinned at him, eyes flashing, and surged forward to bruise Tommy's lips with more urgent kisses. 

Tommy wanted to touch him, to run his fingers over that solid muscled body, but Alfie still had his shirt and undershirt on and there seemed to be acres of fabric to be pulled up and out of the way. Frustrated, he pulled back from the kisses and pushed Alfie back. "This," he yanked at a handful of linen, "this all needs to come off. Right now." 

Alfie's slight frown at being interrupted melted into a grin and he shoved himself up to sit straddled over Tommy's thighs. His shirts came off together in a tangled mess that he hauled over his head and tossed carelessly aside. "Those too," Tommy added, pointing down to Alfie's feet. "You're not fucking me with your socks on."

"Oh, we're going to fuck, are we?" Alfie gazed down at him in delight as if the last few minutes of undressing and kissing and groping hadn't already provided the answer to that. 

"Not if you keep those socks on," Tommy drawled, posing against the pillows with one hand behind his head. He knew perfectly well how good he looked like this. And he knew Alfie was looking. 

"Alright, alright," Alfie grumbled, reaching awkwardly to deal with them. "Anything else, princess? Bed comfy enough? Would you like a fucking cup of tea and a biscuit? Perhaps a magazine?"

Tommy smiled sweetly up at him. "How about a kiss?" 

Alfie heaved a melodramatic sigh and rolled his eyes, the act only slightly ruined by the chuckle he couldn't quite contain. But acquiesced quickly enough. He lay down, half on the bed, half draped over Tommy’s body and kissed him. Everywhere, and with great enthusiasm.

Tommy opened his mouth and tried to capture Alfie into a French kiss, but Alfie was wriggling down the bed, laying kisses and licks and gentle shallow bites down his ribs and stomach and hips. Alfie stroked down the length of his legs and held his smallest toe between his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles over it almost absent-mindedly. Tommy lay still on his back and watched him, a little at a loss for what to do. He’d never particularly had his body enjoyed like this. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He felt bizarrely superfluous to the proceedings. 

Eventually, Alfie surfaced from nibbling at the soft pudge of his belly and crawled back up to kneel over him like a great shaggy dog, planting a hefty kiss right onto his lips. Tommy’s heart soared and he pushed himself up to meet him, but Alfie was gone again, one foot off the bed for balance, reaching up and out to rummage in the drawer of the bedside table. 

“You’re sure about this, Tom?” he asked quietly, returning to sit himself back on Tommy’s thighs. In his hand was a brown glass bottle, like you’d get from the chemist. Liquid glooped thickly inside as he waved it about. 

A small part of Tommy’s brain told him factually: _oil. Oil for lubrication. He wants to fuck you. He doesn’t want it to hurt. He's going to fuck you now._ The rest virtually shut down entirely. His mouth was so dry he could barely prise his tongue off the roof of his mouth, let alone form coherent words. 

He nodded. And Alfie kissed him again. 

* * *

Enthusiastic as he was, Alfie seemed to be in no hurry to get to the meat of the matter, preferring to toss the bottle amongst the pillows and pin Tommy to the mattress again. One of his knees nudged between Tommy's thighs, coaxing them apart. They kissed. Lip to lip and hip to hip. Tommy didn't know what had his heart racing more: his cock trapped snugly against Alfie's belly, or Alfie's pressing urgently into his. Alfie rocked gently against him while he teased Tommy with his tongue, rutting like a schoolboy alone with his girlfriend for the first time. He was so unashamed to chase that pleasure. To want what he wanted. 

And he wanted Tommy. Right now. 

It wasn't long before they were both breathing hard, any finesse of technique abandoned for just grinding against each other. Tommy got a hand free and squeezed it between their bodies. He could feel the head and hardness of Alfie's cock, but do no more than anxiously press his palm against it through the damp fabric of Alfie's underwear.

Abruptly, Alfie held up a hand and pushed Tommy back a little. "Nah, nah. I'm sorry mate," he shook his head. "I mean, we gave it a good try and that, but this just ain't working for me, love." 

Tommy froze, body going completely numb. _What? What happened? What had he done wrong?_ Blood rushed from his cock to his face, burning across his cheekbones in a hot pink flush. Alfie kissed him on the nose. "We're gonna have to get these keks off. Alright?" He squirmed aside, climbing off Tommy and wriggling very ungracefully on his back to get his underwear off. There was a blur of white as he tossed them across the room. 

Naked, he turned his attention back to Tommy, who was sitting up and had been quietly having a minor crisis behind him, so stunned by the sudden turnabout. "Come on, sweetheart, don't be shy." Alfie reached for him, sliding a hand down his back. "I've been waiting years to get my hands on that arse." His fingers nudged under Tommy's waistband, pulled it away from his body and let it snap back against his skin. 

Tommy barely moved.

Alfie cocked his head. "Oi now, petal," he took Tommy's hand. "What's this?" He clambered onto his knees and peered at Tommy. Clicked his tongue. He nodded. "One of your ducks flown away, has it, eh? You changed your mind, is it?" His voice was so soft. So fucking _understanding_ . If Tommy actually had changed his mind, he knew that Alfie would just let him get up and go. Because Alfie wasn't the type of man who had to beg or cajole for a fuck. And somehow, knowing that made the reality of actually being here in his bed so much more than a quick fumble in the sheets. _Don't fuck it up, Tom._

Tommy gripped his hand hard. "No. Not at all." He shuffled closer to Alfie and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing him hard and deep. "Not in the slightest."

Alfie rumbled a pleased noise and kissed him back. "Ah, I see what it is," he started to lay Tommy back down, cradling him in his arms. "You got your first look at my magnificent member of manhood and got a bit of stage fright, eh?" He propped his head up on his hand and looked down at Tommy's speechless face. "Completely understandable." He traced his finger down Tommy's jawline. "But don't you worry, my love, I am not a man of judgement. And I can provide you with the utmost assurance that whatever you've been hiding in your fucking Saville Row suit trousers will undoubtedly prove to be… adequate," he broke into a grin at Tommy's mock-outraged expression. "And considering it's attached to such a very pretty face, even if it's not I'm sure I could--" 

He had to move fast to catch Tommy's wrist before the swipe slapped him in the face, grinning broadly as they wrestled for a moment. Tommy actually managed to land a couple of playful hits before Alfie had him pinned again. Their laughter vibrated through their chests. "But really love, how about you get them off for me, eh?" Alfie asked, rolling off Tommy to lie next to him again. He pulled down at his waistband. Tommy shuffled, tugging at the other side and together they divested him of the last of his clothing. 

He was naked in bed with Alfie Solomons. 

"There you go, see?" Alfie exclaimed loudly. "Absolutely _perfectly_ adequate! Dunno _what_ you were so worried about, love." 

Tommy shut him up by kissing him again. And Alfie seemed more than happy to go with that idea. His hands were roaming again, palming up and down Tommy's body like he was trying to catalogue every inch. 

* * *

All the times Tommy had imagined this, from the split second flash of overly-vivid mental image that ambushed him at the most inopportune moments of his day, to the long, lingering novels of romantic fantasy he'd spun over months and years of masturbating in the small hours when he couldn't sleep… Whether he'd seen himself bent over a rum barrel in the depths of the bakery, or wined and dined before going up to an opulent hotel room to make love, or put on top and ordered to ride himself to finishing… In every filthy thought and flutter of hope, he'd seen Alfie leading. Alfie as the trick, himself as the whore. Alfie as the man, himself as the maiden. So to speak. 

And that had been a large part of why he hadn't previously given in to his urges - and Alfie's confusingly oblique style of flirting - and made a move. He was no longer a blushing teenager in whom sexual naivety was to be expected. He was a man of the world, a gangster, a father, a _war hero_ (his mind spat the last). Above all, Tommy Shelby was calm, experienced, and _in control_. He always had a plan. He always knew what to expect. 

And fucking Alfie would unquestionably be… _unexpected_. In every sense of the word. To say the fucking least.

It wasn't so much that Tommy didn't _want_ to be fucked - he'd discovered the pleasure of a well-placed pair of fingers in France, and was quite enthusiastically partial to it. It was more that he was terrified that his inexperience would be exposed. And the thought of revealing that, while he was in such a vulnerable position - with someone who could utterly ruin him financially, socially and emotionally - filled him with an icy dread that made him feel physically sick. What if it hurt? What if he didn't like it? What if he got something wrong? He wasn't exactly sure why, but Tommy absolutely did not want to be humiliated like that - especially with Alfie. 

So it was somewhat of a shock to him that when Alfie's arms wrapped around Tommy's shoulders and he used his weight advantage to roll them both across the bed, bodily lifting Tommy on top of him, Alfie's legs parted and wrapped around his hips, locking them tight together. He'd never even begun to imagine Alfie spreading his legs, and yet… here they were. 

An arm around his neck pulled him down for another couple of minutes of bruising kisses and grabbing hands. Tommy found himself fitting neatly - perfectly - against his body, with his knees slotting in tidily under Alfie's raised thighs. He savoured the unfamiliarity of a beard scratching his cheek, chest hair under his fingers and the strangeness of suddenly feeling small and delicate next to Alfie's solid bulk. Alfie was still enjoying touching every bit of his skin, smoothing over scars and grabbing at the muscle of his thighs and arse.

There was a brief pause while Alfie retrieved the bottle of oil from between the pillows. He glanced up at Tommy while he opened it and tipped out a little into his palm. "Let me take care of this bit, yeah, Tom?" There was an odd note to his tone but Tommy couldn't figure out what it meant. He nodded, actually rather relieved that he wasn't going to have to finger himself open for Alfie this first time. He trusted Alfie to know what he was doing - far more than himself, at least. 

Alfie's hand, dripping with oil, fumbled between them. His calloused fingers fisted around Tommy's cock, giving him a couple of slippery pumps. And then more movement, awkward angles. He grunted a little, reaching down. Tommy wasn't sure what was going on, but Alfie's wrist was nudging very nicely at the underside of his cock and he focused on that, rather than the growing anticipation that at any moment Alfie would start probing at his arsehole. The image of it made his guts clench, but he still had no idea if it was because of the excitement or the fear. 

Alfie huffed a breath, pulling his hand out from between them and grabbing a satisfying, though greasy, handful of Tommy's thigh. He raised his head for another round of kisses that were almost bites and then tugged at him, pulling him closer, fingertips digging into Tommy's flesh determinedly. He'd have bruises tomorrow for sure. Another pause for another handful of oil from the bottle. This time, Alfie kept kissing him while he fumbled about between their legs. And then he was holding him again. Kisses getting deeper. Hips rocking slow shallow rhythms.

Tommy couldn't work out what Alfie wanted from him. Couldn't figure out how they were going to fuck from this position or why Alfie had made no forays between his arsecheeks yet. But every time he tried to crawl up onto Alfie's body to get into place, or roll them both over so Alfie could have him on his back, or pull away so he could get onto his knees, Alfie's powerful legs tightened around his waist and he was firmly manhandled back to nestle on his between those thighs. Perhaps he thought Tommy still needed more warming up? _Oh fuck, has he guessed it's your first time?_

The panic rose. 

"Fuckenell, Tommy, you disgusting pricktease, just get it in me, will ya?" Alfie's low growl in his ear was followed by a big huff of air as he somehow lifted his backside up onto Tommy's knees by digging his heels into the small of Tommy's back. Tommy could feel the heat of his cock pressed against his belly. His own dick now awkwardly prodding up behind Alfie's balls. He pulled back, mumbling an apology, trying to figure out what was happening. 

Alfie shifted around him again, rocking his hips in little thrusts. Tommy found his cock sliding along the wet path of Alfie's thigh, bumping on the crease of buttock and slipping on up to press hard against slick flesh. It actually felt fairly good, so Tommy was happy to stay like this a moment and just let Alfie's body rub at his dick. And then it just happened. A slight move to the left and then his cock pushed against something which just…gave way to the pressure. And Alfie was hissing satisfaction into his ear and grasping eagerly at his back but all Tommy could feel was the hot grip of Alfie's body around his prick.

"Alfie, I-- I'm…" ... _inside you. My cock is inside you. Holy fuck._ _Holy_ _fuck_ _._ He couldn't finish the sentence. 

"Mmmn hmmn," Alfie purred low in his ear. "Took you bleedin' long enough, love." Tommy's heart jolted with embarrassment at his clumsy naivety, but Alfie hadn't finished. "It's been what? Seven years since you walked into my bakery with those fucking unfair cheekbones? You're lucky I'm a patient man." He flexed his thighs and pulled Tommy deeper, both of them having to catch their breath a little from the movement. Tommy dropped his head to rest against Alfie's shoulder, his hips twitching. 

"Now hold on. Hold on a second," Alfie pulled at Tommy's hair and held his face between his hands so that he could gaze earnestly up at him. "Now listen here, this is important, right?" 

Tommy nodded. Only half paying attention because he'd just noticed he could feel the vibration of Alfie's voice through his chest. Sweat broke out at his temples, a bead rolling down his jaw to his throat as he fought to keep still and controlled.

Alfie tapped him earnestly on the nose, demanding attention. Tommy forced himself to focus. "I want you, mate, yeah? To fuck me into next Tuesday. Alright?" 

A heel slapped against his backside and Alfie rolled his hips as he lay back, giving control over to Tommy. The grip of his body around Tommy's cock almost had him paralysed, but thankfully instinct took over and when his first tentative thrusts brought a huffed guttural moan from deep in Alfie's chest, his hindbrain took full control. He wanted more of that. He needed to make Alfie moan out. To make him gasp and pant and shudder for him. 

He gripped onto Alfie's shoulders. Buried his face into the crook of his neck. Inhaled the rum and smoke and ink scent of him. He was fucking Alfie Solomons. Here, in this bed in his house in Margate, with the seagulls squawking and ships sailing past, he was actually fucking Alfie. 

He'd been fantasising about this for years. The reality was nothing like any of his daydreams. He never could have imagined anything like this.

Alfie was eager and impatient beneath him, urging him to move faster, go deeper, harder, _more_ . And though Tommy was fairly confident in his sexual performance when he was actually interested in his partner's opinion, and he'd definitely had plenty of willing and enthusiastic women at times - this was an entirely new thing. He knew fully well that Alfie could easily overpower him. Could push him off or pin him down without even breaking much of a sweat. But here he was, not only allowing himself to be open and taken, but _wanting_ it. Tommy had never felt so simultaneously delicate and yet powerful. It was a heady mix.

Tommy groaned from low in his belly as the feelings washed over him. The heat and grip of Alfie's body, and the perfect strangeness of the scratch of leg hair against his hips and the bulk and power of him, laid out and offered up for him to take. Not because he was being paid to, or had a duty to, or wanted something in return. But because he wanted _this_ . The sex itself. _With him_. Enough to risk… well, everything. And on that thought he tipped past the point of no return; pouring out years of want as short, desperate spurts.

His orgasm was virtually silent, as always. Carefully hitched breath holding back any moans that threatened to spill out of him. He still came guiltily and secretly, like the teenager he'd been, wanking in the dead of night in a shared bedroom, dreading waking one of his brothers up.

When he was done, he clutched onto Alfie's arms, panting wet breaths into the sweat of his chest hair. Alfie shifted beneath him, trying to get them back into a fucking rhythm. But it was over. Tommy felt his softening cock slide free and flop greasily against Alfie's thigh. Alfie grunted a wordless question, loosening his hold around Tommy's torso. Tommy hauled together the last of his energy and half rolled, half clambered free of Alfie's limbs to collapse breathless and flushed onto the mattress next to him, staring dazedly up at the ceiling. 

He felt relaxed. He felt lighter. He felt happy. The day was beautiful. Birds calling. Kids having a kick about in the alley outside. The distant sound of waves breaking on the pebble beach. The colours of the world were brighter. His problems all seemed manageable. He wanted this moment to last forever.

From a long way away, Alfie rolled onto his side, propped his head up on his hand and cleared his throat, pulling Tommy's attention back into the room. 

"So. That was that, was it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More porn to follow. (as soon as I've finished writing it)


	3. Propagation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fucking - hurrah!

* * *

"Hmmn?" Tommy hadn't been listening. Too blissed out in his own little world. He glanced at Alfie who was biting his lips as if holding back laughter. A small seed of worry grew in Tommy's stomach. He frowned, trying to parse what Alfie had just said. 

"Been a while, has it, mate?" Alfie grinned at him. 

"A while," Tommy echoed distantly, still not getting it. A slow realisation began to dawn. His organs evaporated. Cold hollowness filled his body. His skin burned hot with a blush that began mid-chest and swept all the way up to his hairline.  _ Oh fuck. _

Alfie stretched, flexing his whole body in a ripple from head to toes - and it was completely unfair of him to be so relaxed right now, when Tommy's world was actually collapsing into pieces. "Not that it wasn't a fucking spectacular  _ joy _ to behold, mind you. You really are fucking _ beautiful _ , Tom." He reached out and ran the tip of one finger down Tommy's chest. "I'll be reliving those - admittedly rather  _ brief _ \- moments for fucking  _ years _ to come, mate. Y'know… when I'm by myself, late at night, and need a bit of inspiration." His hand dropped to his cock, still semi-hard, but considerably less interested than it had been about five minutes ago. He gave it a couple of lazy strokes to illustrate his point. 

This morning, Tommy would have quite possibly killed to hear Alfie say something like that about him. Now he just wanted to hide. He slid into his usual defensive state: shut down. Disconnecting the mind from the muscles - especially the facial muscles - had been a meditation exercise taught by his Lieutenant, Hugh Kerr, at the Somme. He'd been a foppish but friendly man who Tommy had hated at first for his aristocratic accent and schoolmaster enthusiasm. But once underground he'd radiated solid leadership, professionalism, and  _ calm _ . Calm even when they were sixty feet below the mud and could hear the Germans digging towards them, inching closer to blow them up at any moment. Suddenly that bluff optimism turned from something to ridicule into something to cling to. When you were working in your socks because you didn't want the noise of boots on chalk to lead the enemy towards you, that reassuring hand on your shoulder and whispered 'tea in ten, old chap' was all you had to keep you sane. 

Tommy had asked him once, when they were in the surface trenches, how he stayed so calm. 'Oh good Lord, I'm not calm at all, Shelby. I just make jolly sure I  _ look  _ calm. And most of the time that's all that matters.' And then Kerr had talked him through the trick of how to switch off his face from his feelings. It had taken him weeks to get the hang of it. But later, it had got Arthur and John and Jeremiah and the others through that long wait. His endless, peaceful calm, even in the face of certain death. Holding them all together.

Now, sometimes he found it difficult to disengage. His mind sank into that state as effortlessly as blinking. "Glad to oblige," he replied to Alfie's teasing dryly.  _ He was unruffled. He was in control. He wasn't going to fall apart. He wasn't going to-- _

"Of course, I'll have to go over the memory quite a _few_ _times_ to get the job done - being that I am not a fourteen year old boy with half a crown who just snuck down to Soho after dark for the first time…" Alfie needled at him, a broad grin flashing white teeth through his beard. He examined his fingernails in a pose of mock-nonchalance. 

"Yes, alright, I get your point," Tommy growled through gritted teeth. Shame had eaten away all his insides. He was just an empty shell, about to be crushed.

"But do not worry your very pretty head, Thomas,” Alfie rolled onto his stomach and gripped Tommy’s hand earnestly. “Because I can  _ assure _ you that I very much enjoyed your performance - as truncated as it might have been - and whatever you might lack in stamina you absolutely made up for in enthusiasm and - to be perfectly frank - being sexy as all fuck." He ran his tongue over his teeth, raking his gaze down the full length of Tommy’s body and then biting his lip, clearly thinking all manner of filthy things.

Tommy’s blush rebloomed and he shut his eyes for a moment. Where was the dissociation when he needed it? He could feel his heartbeat in his temples. Alfie still clutched his hand. He snatched it back. Suppressed the childish instinct to wipe it off on the blankets. "You're fucking loving this, aren't you?"

Alfie flopped over onto his back like some kind of bearded fish flailing about on land. He spread his arms wide and tilted his head back to beam happily at Tommy from upside down. "Oh  _ absolutely _ . I am over-fucking-joyed, mate. This is possibly the best day of my life. And I never expected anything to eclipse the weekend I spent with that Parisian ballet dancer - now  _ he _ , right,” another flop back onto his belly so that he could gesture more meaningfully, “...he could put both his feet behind his head and walk across the room on his hands. Now, I have no idea  _ why  _ he could do that, but I spent a happy couple of days coming up with very creative ways to make use of such an exceptional talent.” A remarkably explicit gesture accompanied that remark. “And it was a  _ very  _ enjoyable way to spend a couple of days, I can tell you.” 

"I'm sure you could, Alfie." Tommy’s chest flared a burst of… what? Arousal? Jealousy? He genuinely couldn’t tell. Did he want to imagine Alfie rolling around in bed with a gymnastically gifted ballet dancer, or did he want to find that dancer and shoot the memory out of his lucky lucky skull? His hands gripped the bedsheets.

Alfie - as usual - didn’t allow him to sit and dwell on his thoughts. He twisted back onto his side and stuffed a pillow under his head. "Now, uh, you gonna give me a hand with this, mate, or am I just having a wank while you sit back and enjoy the show?" Alfie's gesture to his cock and the couple of casual tugs he gave himself made Tommy's guts twist with twin flashes of pure lust and guilt. 

"Uh-" All words deserted him.  _ You are  _ _ pathetic _ _. _

"Cos I'll be honest, right?” Alfie pointed at him. “If you're gonna walk out of here and leave me in this state, then I might be sending you a fucking invoice to your poncy Whitehall office for services fucking rendered, yeah?" He was clearly still joking, but there was an edge lurking behind the joviality. "And if you think I'm gonna be euphemistic in terms of exactly which services were involved…"

"That really won't be necessary.” Tommy held up his hands placatingly. He shifted to sit cross-legged and spread his arms. “What would you like me to do?"

"Fucken _ ell _ , Tommy…” Alfie rolled his eyes so hard his pupils disappeared for a moment. “Careful now. With that kind of glorious poetic language, you’ll  _ blind _ me with the sheer incandescent  _ brightness _ of your incredible  _ romance _ . I mean... Casanova,  _ step aside _ , innit?"

Tommy huffed out his irritation. "I'm not a fucking mind-reader, Alfie. Tell me what you want and I'll do it." He’d always hated any of this flirtatious yes-but-no-but-actually-yes bullshit. That’s why whores were better. It was a transaction. No social minefields to pick through. No delicate dances to trip up in. 

Alfie’s eyes lit up. "Oh  _ that's _ what we're playing now, is it?” He cocked his head. “You gonna be a good boy for me? Do what you're told?” He rose to his knees. With their height difference, he  _ loomed _ . “Is that what you're into, Tommy?” His voice dropped to a deep growl. “Someone taking control?"

"...what?" Tommy’s gaping confusion was palpable. He peered up at Alfie with pure surprise and bafflement writ clearly all over his face.

Alfie blinked. 

"Huh.” He sat slowly down on his heels, a little nonplussed. “Right.” He rubbed at his beard. “Okay then. Scratch that.” His glance flashed around the room briefly. A lick of the lips. “Alright... Tell y'what... what would  _ you _ like to do to  _ me _ , Tommy?” He lifted a finger in warning. “And don't tell me you ain't thought about it because I'll know you're a filthy fucking liar."

"I…" Tommy had no answer. He couldn’t bring anything to mind. Or rather, his mind swirled with a thousand different flash images of all the hundreds of daydreams he’d had about Alfie since the day they’d met at the Camden bakery. Alfie fucking him in his dusty little office. Alfie sliding a hand down the back of his trousers and wriggling two fingers into him while they were in a cab. Alfie pushing his head down to his cock again when his throat was already red raw and burning. Alfie shoving him into a corner, minutes before a public engagement, rutting up against him and stroking at him until he shuddered to climax in his freshly pressed dress trousers. His cock twitched at the thought. Though… come to think of it...

Most of his fantasies consisted of Alfie doing things to  _ him _ . 

Alfie was watching him, finger tapping on his forearm impatiently. "Uh huh. I'm sorry sweetheart, I'm not a  _ mind-reader _ .” He threw that phrase pointedly. “Care to put some words to that ever-so-pretty blush you're wearing?"

"I…" Tommy failed to articulate anything again. Things he wanted to do to Alfie? Where could he even begin? He wanted to kiss him. Hold him. Wake up in bed with him. Fuck him. Oh yes. Fuck him everywhere and in every way that he wanted. Touch him. Explore him. Map out every curve and crevice of his body, scars and blemishes and all. Press his lips to what was left of his eye. To anywhere he wanted, for that matter. Spend three weeks in the fields in a caravan with him, living off whatever they poached. Though Alfie would certainly fucking hate that. Buy him birthday presents. Take him to a decent fucking tailor and get him fucking properly dressed for once. Make him bread and dripping at three in the morning when he came home from late night business and--

Still waiting, Alfie tapped him in the centre of his forehead. "One more try, Tommy; you can do it. What is it that you always saw, when you thought about you and me, eh?” He shuffled closer. Rested a comradely arm on Tommy’s shoulder. “How did you want it? What were you doing to me?"

Tommy couldn’t look at him. He dropped his head and stared at the triangle of blanket framed by his crossed legs. His fingers picked at the last remains of a scratch on his knee - Ruby’s new kitten and it’s savage needle-sharp claws. Alfie was so close. And naked. And warm - heat radiated off him like he was a stove. And ten minutes ago they’d literally been fucking. Why couldn’t he say the fucking words? He. who stood up in Parliament and all but called the Tories cunts to their smug faces, couldn’t say the fucking words. 

He framed the thought. Planned how he would raise his head and say it proudly and clearly to Alfie’s face. He’d chosen to come here; it was obvious what he wanted. Why be ashamed to say it?

"...s'ckin' y'c'ck…"

The mumble fell out of his mouth like the guilty secret it was. He blushed deep red. Heart hammering in his chest. He felt like a little boy.  _ Pathetic. _

Alfie put his hand to his ear. "What was that, love? My hearing ain't what it used to be."  _ The bastard. _

Tommy took a breath and raised his head. "I thought about sucking your cock." He quavered a little on the last word, but otherwise he spoke clearly and calmly. 

"Oh! Well that's a lovely thought ain't it?” Alfie beamed at him, completely unfazed. “I am right on board with you there, Tom. Spectacular plan." He crawled up the bed and enthroned himself amongst the pillows, his back against the headboard. Tommy swallowed thickly. Stayed entirely motionless. Alfie clicked his tongue. "Well, go on then. Help yourself." 

He gestured down at himself. At his cock. Lying heavily and mostly soft on his thigh. Tommy kept politely glancing away from it. Which was fucking ridiculous, considering the circumstances. He cleared his throat and rocked forwards onto all fours.  _ Here we go. _ He moved a little closer. Paused.  _ Do it. You’ve done it before. Do it. You want to. You’ve wanted to for years. Do it.  _

_ Do it, you  _ _ cunt _ _. _

He raised his face to Alfie, who was gazing imperiously down at him. "I'll, uh… I’ll just get started, shall I?" He wiped at his nose. He wanted to adjust his cufflinks - but they were in his waistcoat pocket on Alfie’s chest of drawers and he was fucking naked in his bed, just about to suck his cock. Dizziness washed through him. This couldn’t be actually happening. 

Alfie spread his hands. "If you know of another way to do it, I'd love to hear it, mate." His tongue pressed at the inside of his cheek for a second. He was trying not to laugh. He was actually sat there with his fucking knob out and Tommy’s spunk still dribbling out of his arsehole, awaiting his fucking blowjob - and he was trying not to laugh. Tommy grit his teeth. 

He crawled to Alfie’s hip and slid onto his belly. He frowned and glanced towards the head of the bed. Alfie wordlessly handed him a pillow. Tommy nodded thanks and shoved it under his chest, spending a moment to make himself comfortable. Alfie’s cock was inches from his face. He was circumcised. Obviously. But it was unusual enough in Tommy’s experience to still be a bit of a surprise. He eyed it with curiosity. And resolutely did not look at Alfie when he took that cock in hand. 

And from there, it was easy. 

Alfie thickened up readily under his fingers, growing steadily hard while Tommy stroked at him, a few appreciative rumbles coming from deep in his chest. When he was standing firm, Tommy licked his lips and lurched forward to drop his mouth over it before he lost his nerve. 

He tasted of salt and fresh sweat and that masculinity that seemed universal. And just a hint of the dark treacliness of molasses - from the bakery, no doubt. Tommy instinctively put his hand to his lips to roll back a foreskin that wasn’t there. He covered up the misstep by dropping his fingers down to Alfie’s balls instead. His tongue worked firmly at the underside of the head, then swirled around the tip as he came off for a snatched breath. No pause, just straight back down again, relaxing his throat for it. A dark twist of memory stirred but he pushed it away and slammed a metaphorical door on it.  _ Not now. This is not the same thing as that. _ His head bobbed vigorously up and down. He shut his eyes and concentrated on what he was doing.

Alfie groaned. "Oh  _ yes _ … that's a fucking  _ wonderful _ thing, that is.” He shifted slightly, sinking lower in his pile of pillows. “I'll tell you this Tommy: I've spent several years imagining all the ways that you'd be doing this, but the reality outshines the fantasy by quite some wa--” His sentence was cut off by a sharp intake of breath as Tommy sucked hard at the head of his cock. 

He ran his fingers through Tommy’s hair and traced a fingertip down his cheek. Tommy looked up at his face through his lashes, giving him his very best angelic whore look. Alfie grumbled under his breath. "Fuck me, you're pretty. Fucking  _ unfair _ , is what it is. How's a man supposed to make smart business choices when a mouth like that walks into his fucking office, eh? You could have asked for ten percent and I may well have considered it."

Tommy exhaled a laugh through his nose, coming off Alfie’s cock with a noisy slurp. "Only ten percent? I'd have asked for fifty." His tongue lapped at Alfie’s slit, tasting savoury precome.

Alfie hooked a finger under his chin and lifted his face. "Tommy, love - you're pretty, but you ain't magical." 

That sounded like a fucking challenge. 

Tommy resumed his efforts. He took it deep, keeping his lips tight so that when he came up and opened his mouth, saliva would cascade down the shaft, running over his fingers and dripping down off his balls. He spat onto his fingers and reached under to work them up into the cleft of Alfie’s buttocks. Alfie accommodatingly lifted his knee and spread his legs a little for him. Tommy carried on sucking at his cock while he pressed two fingers up and into Alfie. He was pliant. Already oiled and opened up. Tommy crooked his fingers, probing. 

Alfie sucked air in through his teeth. "Oh, but  _ that _ may well be slightly magical.” He rocked his hips, placing himself deliberately onto Tommy’s fingers. “Yeah, you can keep going with that."

Another slurp as Tommy lifted his mouth off to ask a slightly breathless "Yeah?"

A nod. "Mmmn, hold on, grab yourself a bit of this." Alfie fumbled about amongst the blankets and half tossed, half rolled the bottle of oil to him. Tommy fumbled with it for a moment, then returned his freshly oiled fingers to Alfie’s arse.

"Better?" He lapped delicately at the tip of Alfie’s cock again, creating a counterpoint with the gentle flex of his fingers.

Alfie nodded. "Oh yeah. That's it.” He rocked his hips again. “A bit more, love, I won't break.” Tommy pushed in a third finger and built up the tempo a bit. Alfie hummed, a lazy smile on his face. “ _ There _ you go, that's…. yeah.  _ Yeah _ ." His body twitched as Tommy apparently found a particularly good combination of fingers and tongue. Tommy kept doing it, watching Alfie’s body respond through half-lidded eyes.

He found Alfie fascinating. Well, of course he did; he had done for years. But Alfie in bed, during sex, was just as fascinating in a wholly new way. Alfie was… shameless? Unapologetic? Completely  _ genuine. _ He made no effort to hide his body, despite his scars and inflamed skin and bit of a belly. He openly showed that he was eyeing Tommy up and enjoying what he was seeing. He had no hesitation in reaching to touch Tommy or move him to a slightly better angle. He moaned out when something felt good and moved his body to chase or enhance that pleasure, without any thought to how it might make him look wanton or needy. Just… allowing himself to be. Without worrying about any implication or any ramifications of wanting what he wanted.

Being with Alfie like this felt oddly similar to how Tommy felt when he was alone with his horses. There was no subtext. No subterfuge. Just him and them, enjoying the present moment with none of the machinations of human interaction and politics and society and greed. It was refreshing. Relaxing. He felt as close to safe as he had since before France. Which, considering the absolutely insane thing he was doing, was rather ironic. 

He’d been letting his mind freewheel while Alfie squirmed under his hands and thrust erratically up into the heat of his mouth, moaning and whining and muttering strings of four-letter words in a variety of languages. But as Tommy worked, Alfie suddenly clutched his head, first holding him still and then bodily hauling him off his cock. "Shit. Oh fucking shit. Fuck.” Tommy sat back a little and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, still going with the rhythm of his oiled fingers. Alfie slapped at his wrist, grabbing his forearm and pulling him away. “Oh fuck, Tommy, Stop. Stop stop stop." Alfie shoved himself up to sitting, panting hard. 

Tommy brought his hands to his chest, jumping to his knees to get back and give Alfie space. "What happened? Are you okay?" He couldn’t see any obvious injury, but what if he’d damaged him…  _ inside _ ? His heart hammered in his chest. Shit. What if someone was coming? There was no way he could get into his clothes in time--

Alfie huffed a few more short breaths and flopped heavily back onto his pillows."I'm spectacular, love, but you were gonna make me come." He was sweating a little, a broad smile on his pinkly flushed face. 

"...isn't that the point?" Tommy frowned. His heartbeat was coming back down but he still felt on edge. Getting Alfie to come had definitely been what he’d been going for. Why the fuck would Alfie stop him? He pushed his hair back out of his face and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. His jaw ached. He coughed.

Alfie reached for him and tugged at his arm until Tommy came close enough to Alfie to capture him in a bearhug. "Hmmn, well yes…” He spent a moment kissing his cheek, jaw, neck... stroking down Tommy’s back and squeezing a big handful of his backside. He whispered into Tommy’s ear, “...but I wanted to come with your cock in me.” The hand on Tommy’s arse slid around his hip and grasped at his cock, which had recovered nicely in the interim. “And I think you might be up for that too, eh?"

"I…" Tommy couldn’t form a reply. Not that it mattered. Alfie tightened his grip around him and, with a loud grunt, heaved Tommy on top of him.

Again, his legs parted and Tommy found himself slotted neatly into place. At least now he had more idea of what was expected of him. "Fuck me, Tommy," Alfie commanded - and it was a command, issued from his throne of pillows with a langorous air. He shifted his legs wider apart, revealing the slick sheen of oil leading a path up between his buttocks, and waited expectantly.

"Jesus Christ...” Tommy’s tongue felt thick in his mouth. His cock twitched, brushing up against Alfie’s thighs.

Alfie grinned up at him. "Never met ‘im. You’ll have to make do with me." He wrapped his legs around Tommy’s hips and squeezed him tight for a moment. Tommy pressed his cheek to Alfie’s chest, rubbing his nose against the roughness of his chest hair and nuzzling into its unfamiliar texture. He used the moment to graze his teeth over a nipple, swirling his tongue over it experimentally. Alfie flexed beneath him, responding to the gentle bite. 

Tommy glanced about the bed for the bottle of oil but couldn’t spot it. Alfie followed his gaze and then felt about under the pillows, presumably having guessed what he was looking for. The bottle was lost amongst the bedding, kicked thoughtlessly aside earlier on. Grumbling, Alfie pushed Tommy up and sat up to look properly, pulling impatiently at the rucked up blankets to shake it free from wherever it was hiding. There was a thump onto the carpet at the foot of the bed and Tommy went to fetch it. He applied the oil to himself and watched Alfie rearrange himself, folding one and then two pillows under his hips. When Alfie was settled, he beckoned Tommy to return to his place between his legs.

Slightly more confident now, Tommy reached down and slid his fingers back into Alfie, just checking that he was slick and ready - though not without a brief detour to have a bit of a gentle squeeze at his balls. He looked at Alfie’s face while he lined himself up and slowly pressed himself into that grip and heat - he’d had his eyes closed when he’d entered the first time and now he wanted to see it. 

Alfie’s expression as he was penetrated was everything Tommy needed from life. His eye fluttering close, tiny twitches of his lip and brow with his brief flashes of discomfort, melting into that open-mouthed, satisfied smile… Tommy watched him, rapt, drinking in every tiny detail. He eased himself forward with little pushes until he was fully seated and Alfie’s eyes flickered open again. 

“Y’alright?” he asked, slightly breathlessly, a small cease appearing at his brow.

“Yeah.” Tommy nodded, stroking his hands down Alfie’s chest and belly. “Just... enjoying you.”

Alfie snorted and rocked his hips. “Well, as nice as that is, I’d kinda prefer it if you’d fuck me now - if it’s all the same to you, mate.” A smile and then Tommy shuffled on his knees for better purchase and thrust hard into Alfie's body. 

This time - not quite so pent-up and desperate for it - he was able to concentrate on more than just how fucking good Alfie felt around him. Though he did feel fucking incredible. But the noises he made (loud, almost constant) and the way he moved along with Tommy's movements (eager, with hints of how strong he could be) and all the touches and kisses he placed on any part of Tommy's body he could reach. He was so tactile. He seemed to want to hold and stroke and grab everything all at once.

Alfie kept kissing his neck, cheek, nose. Tommy, acutely aware that he could still taste Alfie’s cock on his tongue, kept turning his face politely away every time Alfie tried to kiss him on the lips. Eventually, Alfie physically held his head still between his hands. He growled. "Kiss me, you prick." He pressed his mouth to Tommy’s and Tommy felt the swipe of his tongue across his lips, though he kept his own firmly pressed closed. Alfie pulled back, brows knit and all but pouting in annoyance.

"My mouth's just been…" Tommy hastily tried to explain through his rutting thrusts. 

Alfie gave him such a withering stare that Tommy felt like he’d just been pushed out into the cold. "Yeah, I know. So fucking what?" he challenged. Tommy opened his mouth to reply, but Alfie cut him off, snatching the opportunity to pull him in with a hand at the back of his neck and kiss him fully and deeply. His tongue flashed into Tommy's mouth and  _ fuck _ , knowing that he didn't care that Tommy had just had his mouth full of cock really turned Tommy on. He gripped Alfie's hip and thigh and fucked him harder. 

The way Alfie was kissing him, it seemed like knowing Tommy'd just been sucking his cock did something for him too. 

Alfie's moaning and occasional yells, as well as the creaking of the bedstead and mattress springs, were building up to quite the noise, and Tommy was incredibly glad that no one here knew him because surely anyone near the house could hear them. But this wasn't his house, wasn't his city, and somehow… he couldn't bring himself to care about that right now. He was enjoying watching Alfie lose himself to the pleasure he was giving him. 

To have someone as solid and powerful as Alfie letting go like this for him… Tommy had never felt so powerful.

Alfie grumbled out a stream of Yiddish. Or possibly Russian. Tommy didn't know enough about either to tell the difference. But Alfie was grabbing his arm and moving his hand… to his cock.  _ Of course _ . Tommy felt a little guilty that he hadn't thought to do that already. He wrapped his fingers around Alfies cock and worked it at the same rhythm as his hips. Alfie whined, his body stiffening. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…  _ Shit _ , Tom.  _ Fuck _ ." And he came. 

For all his noise, Alfie came relatively quietly. All his writhing and rutting stilled into tense shudders and though his mouth fell open, he made no sound while he spurted pulse after pulse over Tommy's fingers. Tommy stroked him through it, still rocking into him, unsure if he should stop or keep going. Before long, Alfie batted his hand away from his cock and he took that as a cue to pull out. 

He knelt there between Alfie's thighs and watched him breathing heavily through his afterglow. 

Eventually, Alfie gasped a deep sigh and opened his eyes. He caught sight of Tommy gazing down at him and smiled, reaching out with his arms. Tommy wiped his fingers on a loose corner of a sheet and crawled over his body to lie on the bed next to him, wrapped in his arms. He mumbled appreciatively when Alfie hauled a blanket over them both. Alfie kissed the top of his head and it was so gentle and tender that Tommy felt his eyes prickle with the threat of tears. 

He pushed the emotion down and tilted his head back to look at Alfie's relaxed face. "That was…" His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat.

Alfie grinned at him. "Pretty fucking good, eh?" He flexed his body, frowned, and reached to wrestle the pillows out from under his backside, tossing them carelessly onto the floor. 

Tommy stared up at the ceiling. "More than I ever imagined." He was a little dazed. His mind going over and over the mental images of Alfie being fucked, Alfie coming. Coming because of him.  _ Fuuuck _ … he still couldn't quite believe it. He'd been so fucking hot. His hand went to his cock, tugging idly at it. He wanted to come again, but...

Alfie, of course, noticed almost immediately. "What'cha doing there?" he asked in an overly innocent voice.

Tommy blushed. "Uh, I just need to…" He pulled his hand away guiltily.

Alfie laughed. "Tommy, you don't have to have a guilty wank under the covers like a naughty schoolboy." He kissed him and then rolled onto his belly. "Come on. Do you wanna put it back in and fuck me until you finish?" He illustrated his point by wiggling his arse invitingly.

"Are you serious?" Tommy gaped at him, astounded, though his cock twitched against his thigh at the thought.

A shrug. "Why wouldn't I be?" Alfie pushed the blanket down his body, revealing his backside.

"I… yeah." Tommy didn't need to think twice. "I would like that, yeah."

"Mmmn, go on then." Alfie got his knees underneath him, tucking a pillow under his chest. He looked incredible, head resting on his crossed arms, arse up, already slick and ready, just waiting for him… Tommy was almost too overcome by the image to actually move to go and fuck him. 

Jesus fucking Christ, he was just about to stick his cock into Alfie's arse. Again. Just like that. As if it was a thing he could just  _ do _ . 

A little dazed, Tommy crawled round to kneel between Alfie's feet. Obviously, being face down now, this all felt new and different again, but on the other hand, Tommy had fucked plenty of people on their knees like this. This was familiar. He slapped his cock against Alfie's backside, rubbing it up and down the oiled slickness between his buttocks. 

When he pushed in, Alfie arched his back and rumbled to himself. And  _ fuck _ , his arse felt good. He had so much grip but was so soft and hot and… It was  _ Alfie _ . Tommy had wanted him for years. He'd just never thought it would happen. And he'd never thought it would be like this. He held onto Alfie's hips and quickly built up to a rapid pace, his cock demanding climax after working so hard to bring Alfie there a few minutes ago. Uncertainly, he slid a hand under Alfie's body and palmed at his soft cock.

Alfie shifted his hips away from the touch "Tommy, sweetheart, you've got me off already. Don't worry about me now; I'm done." As if to cement the point, he let his knees spread until his belly was flat against the mattress, his cock hidden underneath his body. "Just do what feels good to you, love. Yeah?"

"Fucking hell, Alfie…" Tommy closed his eyes and sent a thank you to a god he didn't believe in. What the fuck had he done to deserve something as incredible as this? He adjusted his position a little and hammered into Alfie's body with renewed focus, chasing all the pleasure he could get.

Underneath him, Alfie groaned. "There you go, see?  _ Use _ me." He rocked his hips back, offering himself up for Tommy to take however he wanted. 

" _ Fucking hell _ , Alfie," Tommy panted, gripping onto him with fingertips turning white from the pressure. He was fucking Alfie Solomons. Again. Fucking him as if he was a whore he'd hired. This huge Camden gangster, naked and giving himself to him. Because he wanted to. He  _ wanted _ Tommy to fuck him and use him and--

With his usual silence, Tommy spilled himself into Alfie's arse for the second time that evening. 

Breathlessly, he shuddered through a few last strokes and gave Alfie's backside one last squeeze before pulling away and shifting to lie next to him again. Alfie glanced at him and winked. Tommy rolled onto his side. "That was… I…" He couldn't express how good he felt. 

Alfie held up a warning finger. "If you even fucking  _ think _ about saying 'thank you', Tommy, I will fucking castrate you." Tommy pressed his lips together, trapping the gratitude inside. Instead, he leaned in to kiss Alfie. 

Because that was a thing he could just  _ do _ .

  
  


* * *

Tommy lay in Alfie's arms, watching a spider industriously weaving a web on the curtain rail. They'd been there quite a while; the spider had finished its construction lines and was now several turns into spiralling the webbing. 

Alfie shifted behind him and pressed a kiss just behind his ear. "So. I am intrigued, Tommy. Indulge me."

"Hmmn?" Tommy didn't stop watching the spider, but he stroked at Alfie's face. 

Another kiss against his neck. "Now, that was very clearly not the first cock you've sucked." A little flash of tongue against the curve of his ear. "But tell me... was that your first fuck?"

Tommy stiffened. Had it really been that fucking obvious? He stalled for time, scoffing at the idea. "You think I was a fucking virgin?"

Alfie chuckled. "Oh don't get your knickers in a twist, petal, I'm sure you're an absolute  _ paragon _ of virility with the ladies. I was talking specifically about you with a bloke."

Tommy was silent for a while, gathering his thoughts. And his courage. This was not something he'd ever talked about. He barely even let himself think about it. "It was… almost the first."

"Right, right…" Alfie agreed affably. He nibbled at Tommy's shoulder, one hand sliding over his belly and resting comfortably there. "Care to elaborate, at all?"

Tommy should have known he wasn't going to get out of it that lightly. He paused a moment, wondering how to say it. "...There was someone. Before. But we never got to this point." He turned his mind away from those memories and a long-hidden thought was unsurfaced. "And there was a... whore, in France, who turned out to be a lad." God, he hadn't thought about Miette in years. What would he be doing now?

Alfie hummed into his ear. "But you had a go on him anyway…?"

"...Yeah." Tommy shrugged. "I mean, he looked the part; the dress, the stockings, the makeup and hair."

"Just a little something extra for you under his skirts." Alfie nodded, his beard rough against Tommy's temple. 

"Something like that." Tommy agreed. "And, well… I’d already paid - and five bob is five bob."

Another laugh. "Too bloody right, mate." Alfie grinned and used a finger on his chin to turn his head to kiss him. They kissed for quite a while. Not escalating, just enjoying the closeness. Alfie drew back and picked up Tommy's hand, kissing his knuckles. "Ever been fucked?"

"Alfie!" Tommy jerked in surprise at his bluntness. He blushed; pink spreading across his chest and rising up his neck.

"What? It's a reasonable question, ain't it? Under the circumstances?" Alfie nudged at his backside with his hips.

"Fucking hell…" Tommy hid his face behind his hands. He knew he'd turned bright red. Even his ears felt hot. 

Alfie sniggered at him. "Hmmn, yeah, so from the very fetching shade of pink that you're turning I'm gonna go ahead and say with a fair amount of confidence that that's a 'no' then, eh Tommy?"

Tommy surfaced for long enough to choke out "I…" and then gave up and hid his face again. His heart raced in his chest. 

"Yeah. Thought so." Alfie chuckled and stroked at his hair, hugging him gently. And there was no judgement there. No malice. He'd simply wanted to know, and now that he knew, nothing had changed. It was a dizzying feeling, to be stripped bare like that and yet not put at any disadvantage. He wasn't used to it. 

Tommy kept his face hidden until he'd got a grip on his embarrassment. He shuffled over to face Alfie, brushing his scruffy hair back from his eyes. "I thought you were going to," he murmured softly. "When I came into your rooms, that's what I thought was going to happen." 

Alfie squeezed his shoulder. "Mmmn, yeah, me too, if I'm honest," he nodded. 

Tommy blinked. "Why didn't you?"

"Well…" Alfie scratched at his cheek and yawned. "I didn't want the mighty majesty of my massive cock to intimidate you, did I?"

"Fuck off, Alfie." Tommy shoved him, rolling his eyes. Alfie tickled at his ribs and he was forced to slap his hand away before he squealed. Fuck, Alfie must  _ never _ find out that he was ticklish. That would be a shortcut to absolute loss of dignity very very rapidly. Thankfully, Alfie switched his assault from tickling to kissing, which was much more enjoyable for both of them. 

When they broke apart, Alfie picked up exactly where he'd left off. "Nah, but… This was a big thing for you, right? And I thought you'd prefer to have the upper hand, so to speak. Make it a bit easier for you to wrap your head around it."

Tommy pursed his lips, unsure how to take that. "So… it wasn't a big thing for you, then," he said flatly.  _ Of course. _ Of course, he was just another fuck, wasn't he? Just an interesting way to while away a boring evening in Margate. 

Alfie sighed. "Oh fucking hell Tommy, don't be a silly little girl." He tapped Tommy on the nose. "Of  _ course _ fucking you was a big fucking thing. I've wanted you since the day I first fucking  _ saw _ you." Another nose tap. "You have been an absolute fucking  _ nightmare _ of indecently sexy and infuriatingly oblivious to my advances for years."  _ Tap _ . "Do you know how bad you are for business?"  _ Tap. _ "How fucking distracted you got me?"  _ Tap. _ "So don't you pout your pretty lips over a fucking turn of phrase."  _ Tap _ . "All I meant was that I reckon I've fucked a fair few more men than you have." A nose kiss at the end of his tirade.

Biting his lip, Tommy thought about that for a while, finally admitting, "I think you'd be right."

"There you go, see?" Alfie kissed his nose again. He felt down Tommy's arm to his hand and entwined their fingers. 

Tommy frowned. "Wait. You were making advances?" He cocked his head, trying to think of a time Alfie had come onto him.

Alfie pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Good God Almighty, Tommy, you are fucking dense…" He shook his head in disbelief. "Yes. Yes I was. Virtually with bloody bells on."

"I… had no idea." Tommy felt incredibly stupid. All this time he'd been mooning after Alfie and fantasising about fucking him, and all this time Alfie had been… thinking the same? His mind threw years of interactions at him, scanning furiously through them in light of this new information. He needed to reevaluate everything they'd ever said to each other. 

"Yeah, no shit." Alfie snorted. "I'll say again: fucking  _ dense _ ." He kissed Tommy's forehead. "Luckily for you, I have become rather more forthright in my afterlife and decided to drop a 'hint' that even you couldn't fucking ignore. Because what's the worst that could happen? You'd get pissed off and shoot me in the face or something?"

Tommy groaned at that. "You're going to hold that over me forever, aren't you?"

Alfie grinned happily. "Yes I am, sweetheart. Yes I fucking am."

* * *

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> WIth thanks to Renai, mastcells and mintjamsblog for their help and cheerleading. 
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr at still-the-seventh
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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